Page 4 of The Lie

For a moment, I forget I’m a stranger standing in a hospital room, playing the role of someone’s boyfriend. All I see is a woman who wants reassurance that the granddaughter she loves will be okay.

I glance down at my watch, looking for an out. I’ve been here for close to an hour, and although it wasn’t nearly as awkward as I initially thought it would be, my job is done. I need to go and find a nurse and see if I can get an update on my brother.

Nanna has a smile on her face, the tension in the room has eased, and for the first time since I walked in, the blonde—whose name I’ve learned is Poppy—looks like she can breathe again. I’ve done what I came here to do. Whatever that was.

“Will you look at the time,” I say, glancing back at my watch. “I have somewhere I need to be, so I should probably head out.”

The relief that flashes across Poppy’s face is subtle, but I catch it. I can’t blame her.

“I’ll walk you out,” she replies, rising from her seat.

“Okay, sweetheart.”

Poppy’s eyebrows raise slightly at my term of endearment, as if I’m laying it on too thick. But I’m just trying to make it believable. If she were my girlfriend, I would definitely say something along those lines.

I turn my attention back to her grandmother, who has already insisted I call her Nanna, and extend my hand once again. “It was lovely meeting you, Nanna,” I say, offering the elderly woman the kind of smile that has gotten me through more boardrooms and negotiations than I care to admit. “I’m glad I finally got the chance.”

Her fingers curl around mine, and her expression softens. “I’m glad too, Riley,” she says warmly, and I have to fight the cringe when she calls me by the double-crossing douchebag’s name. “You’re exactly the kind of man I hoped Poppy would find.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, because I’m not. Not really. I’m a man who walked into a hospital room on a whim and lied to a dying woman because I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing her or her granddaughter disappointed.

I’m an imposter who has no business being part of either of their lives.

A man whose life is far too busy and complicated to settle down with anyone, for that matter.

I don’t do relationships. I don’t have the time, and honestly, I’ve never met a woman who can handle being with someone married to his job. They all say they understand at first, but sooner or later, they want more than I’m willing to give.

I’m no saint, and I’ve never claimed to be one. There are a few women I can call when I want company. Women who understand that whatever happens between us comes with zero expectations and definitely no promises.

I can’t remember the last time I had anything that could be called meaningful.

And yet, as I look at the happiness on Nanna’s face, I find I don’t regret stepping into this mess. Not when, for the first time in a long time, I’m not thinking about what it costs me. I’m thinking about what it means to her.

Chapter 3

Poppy

The sweet smile curving my lips vanishes the second I follow whatever-his-name-is into the corridor. “What the hell was that?” I hiss.

He turns to face me, his expression frustratingly calm, like he hasn’t just upended my life by walking into a hospital room and pretending to be my boyfriend.

“What was what?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

I stare at him, wondering whether he’s genuinely confused or if this is simply the next step in whatever bizarre game he’s decided to play.

“You know exactly what I mean,” I snap. “You can’t just walk in here, pretend to be someone you’re not, and then act like it’s completely normal.”

His jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn’t look away. “Correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but I believe I saved your arse in there. And guess what? I did it for free.”

My eyes narrow at the smugness creeping into his voice.

“Saved my arse?” I repeat, keeping my voice low. “You inserted yourself into a situation you knew nothing about and decided to play the hero.”

One corner of his mouth lifts, and I clench my hands into fists at my sides so I don’t accidentally slap that smug look right off his handsome face.

Of course, he’s ridiculously good-looking. Because apparently the universe decided that the arrogant stranger who just turned my entire day upside down also needed a face that makes it unnecessarily difficult to stay angry at him.

“I wasn’t playing the hero,” he says, his tone far too calm for my liking.